


Stall Comps

by FatePissOrder (poludeuces)



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Chance of Being Caught, Masturbation, Omorashi, Other, Piss, Watersports, if you do not like piss you will not like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 05:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poludeuces/pseuds/FatePissOrder
Summary: Tristan is at the back of a stall comp, when he realizes that he may have drank too much before he got out onto the battlefield.





	Stall Comps

**Author's Note:**

> hello. this is an omorashi/piss fanfic. if you do not like that, then i would recommend not reading this one  
content warnings:  
\- omorashi  
\- pissing in a public place  
\- description of pissing  
\- character becoming turned on due to pissing  
\- masturbation  
\- chance of being caught by two other characters (is not caught)
> 
> thanks!

It was perhaps the worst thing to be at the back end of a stall comp.

Tristan knew his job. He would happily sit in the back, and if anything bad happened to five other people ahead of him, he would act as the final saving grace. His evade and heal skill was the main reason for him to be there - the boss wasn’t a Saber, they were just holding out against a large assassin foe. This was simply Ritsuka flexing their muscles. And by that, it was lining up Mashu, Tamamo no Mae and Merlin in the front line and seeing how long it would take before the battle was over.

During these battles all Tristan could really do was stand around and wait. He usually didn’t even get the chance to do anything. He was really just here for the bond points and a last ditch effort. Boredom would quickly set in and the pain in his legs would grow. It had crossed his mind to maybe sit down during these stall comps, but he shook off the idea. It might be rude for him to do that.

Sad. But that was his role in these battles.

Not that he was particularly interested in fighting. He had been on the front line for a couple of these compositions, when his archer skills proved useful against the enemy, but all these battles were was frustrating. Full noble phantasms that only left a dent. The same skills being used over and over again. The insurmountable amount of life remaining. Not to mention if the opponent had more than one health bar to break through.

Sad. 

More like futile, really.

He fished a water bottle from his cape and finished its contents. Jeanne had so graciously given them out water bottles, knowing that they would be out there standing out in the sun for a while. He looked around for a possible lake or river to perhaps refill it, but he was surrounded by only grassy fields. 

He sighed as Merlin’s flowers once again descended onto the field, healing up the frontline. And there was that, Merlin’s constant, annoying voice. He was definitely good at stalling, and the three defenders as a front line were doing their job. The enemy had used their noble phantasm multiple times already, but due to dodges and invulnerabilities, their health had barely dropped. 

He glanced at the side, where Ritsuka was watching, ever serious. Their command seals almost seemed to glow at Tristan. All three were ready to go in case they were all to fall. Though realistically, they would be used if the first five were to fall. 

Again, he was a 'just in case'.

Sad.

Tristan watched the people ahead of him. Gripping her wand, the younger Medea’s eyes followed the battle closely. Compared to the front line, her main job was simply to heal - and she was very good at that. Her noble phantasm was ready to go. Not that it would likely be necessary, but nevertheless, she was ready. He noticed how whenever things got a little dicey (but never too dangerous, it was Merlin/Mashu/Tamamo, after all), her grip would tighten and she would let out a little yelp.

“Tristan?” a voice cut through his train of thought and he turned his attention to the girl directly in front of him. Jeanne waved her flag at him. “Earth to Sir Tristan?”

“I’m here,” Tristan responded. 

She sighed in relief, “Thank god, I didn’t know if you had fallen asleep or something. It’s so difficult when your eyes are always closed.” He ignored the fact that his eyes had just been open now, watching the battle, but that was definitely something he got often. Coupled with his longer hair, people assumed that he wasn’t able to see things very well. He would often remind people that he wouldn’t be a good archer if his eyesight was bad.

Tristan waved his hand as if to wave off her doubts. “Do not worry, I would never fall asleep in the heat of battle.” He dropped his arm and pouted, turning back to the slog of a battle they were currently trapped in. “But, if there was ever a battle to fall asleep during…” 

Jeanne let out an awkward chuckle. “Yes, it has been going on for quite a while, hasn’t it?” 

Tristan’s relationship with the servant had not grown too much since his summoning, yet due to his knowledge of her history, he did hold a deep respect for her. Further she had demonstrated extreme skill in the short time they had been battling together. The veneer of awkwardness still stuck to their conversations when they were one-on-one like this, but it was something to cut through the boredom.

“Yes, it unfortunately has, that frontline is impossible to cut through, yet the boss we are facing has such a large health bar, we might be stuck here for a while…” 

“Well, as long as you don’t have anything else to do then you’ll be fine. Just hope you don’t need to go to the washroom!” Jeanne joked with another awkward laugh.

“Ruler! I might swap you in, soon!” Ritsuka flipped through their mystic code skills. 

Jeanne raised an eyebrow but nevertheless nodded, “Yes, master!” She turned back to Tristan and gave him another polite smile before focusing once again on the battle waging in front of them.

Tristan wouldn’t have noticed this, however. The thought had crawled into his head, and now his attention was focused on his groin.

He _had_ gone to the mess hall before the battle. He _had_ drank almost all of his weight in water in preparation for a longer battle. Bedivere _had_ brought too many glasses for their table, not realizing that Lancelot was busy farming and would not be joining them for lunch. Tristan _had_ agreed to drink Lancelot’s glass for him so that Bedivere wouldn’t think too much about it. And he _had_ just finished a water bottle, the empty bottle sitting in the grass, staring back up at him. 

And now it was hitting him. 

How long had it been since the beginning of the battle? He checked quickly - oh boy, they were on their fiftieth turn, huh? He turned his attention back to the boss. The frontline had successfully knocked it down to its final health bar, but that still required over a million health points before the battle would be over.

Tristan tightened his legs together. So, even if they did quicken up the pace, it would still be a while before he’d be allowed to go.

Sad.

It was simply a feeling bubbling to the surface. If he could simply think about something else then he would be okay. He was a knight after all! He had spent days on horseback without many stops to relieve himself. While his bladder was not trained, per se, it did have some practice. He would be fine.

He chose to focus back on the battle. They were fighting a large ghost creature, with fingers like needles that sent powerful slashes of wind onto the battle and cut the entire frontline. The bones crackled each time they moved, and ever so often it would target the noble phantasm level or one of their skills. He could almost feel the jets of air as they sliced through the field, his hair moving in the wind. 

And it was a field. It was almost nostalgic to the many fields he had traveled through in his life. He had been told that they were in France today, and while he had never been to Lancelot’s home when he had been alive, he had certainly found something familiar about this place. 

It was almost as if he had been here before, and his mind wandered back to old memories: of playing his harp in the grass, to learning how to ride a horse in his youth, to countless battles in once-green fields, to stopping during a ride to relieve himself -

He shook his head as if to shake the thoughts from his mind and gripped his bow tight. No. No thinking about that.

He focused again on his surroundings. The sunny day and the soft breeze made the large monster stick out even more, it was an eyesore, something that wasn’t supposed to be here. It was their job to remove it and return things to normal. In the grand scheme of things, this was just a small thing that had to be erased, but considering previous singularities, anything could cause chaos for humanity’s future, however small.

He had just simply wished he hadn’t drunk so much before coming out here.

No matter how much he tried to focus on the battle, the need crept up. Small pangs of pain reminded him of his ever-growing need. He resolved to discreetly cross his legs in order not to bring any attention to himself.

He let out a small sigh and shut his eyes, tight. He decided to simply listen to the battle that was raging on instead of watching. He was used to having his eyes closed, anyways, he could understand what was going on for the most part. He didn’t need to have his eyes open to understand that Mashu was using her noble phantasm again, or that the wind that blew at his bangs was from another swipe from the large ghost. 

Closing his eyes shut tight created lights that danced against his eyelids, and he tried to map them instead of paying attention to the problem between his legs. Yet, whenever he thought that he had done it, his mind reminded him of why he was trying to distract himself in the first place. 

He swallowed hard and readjusted his bow so that both hands were grabbing onto it. His fingers softly plucked at the strings. Tristan tried his best not to play any notes. No need to have anyone turn their attention towards him. This helped. Music always helped him relieve stress, and the plucking gave him something to do with his hands.

His hand gripped on the solid piece of the bow and twisted it unconsciously. His mind started to drift. It’s shape, how it fit in his hand… it almost reminded him of his own penis. He licked his lips before biting down. Oh how it took everything for him not to shoot his hand down onto his own, to squeeze it to keep him from accidentally relieving himself. 

Sad…

“Just half a million left!” Ritsuka screamed from the sidelines. Tristan’s eyes opened and he turned to the battle. Yes, they were definitely getting close. Finally. Yes, he would be able to do this. 

Tristan swallowed hard again and tapped his bow. He was biting down so hard now that he was almost at the point of drawing blood. His thighs were pressed together so much that he was basically squeezing his dick in between in place of a hand. 

Tristan turned back to study Ritsuka. Their eyes had that special glow, that one that signaled that they truly believed in their servants. They were also one-hundred percent focused on the frontline. 

_If I were to do something, like a quick leak, then they probably wouldn’t notice,_ Tristan thought to himself. _I mean, how long would it take, anyways?_ All he would have to do is very discreetly turn to the side, fish his dick out of his pants, and quickly let some of it out. It probably took longer for Merlin to do his full noble phantasm!

He was thankful his master preferred his second ascension. As such, he could let his cape fall to his side. It did a good job at covering half of his front, covering his crotch. Further, unlike his third ascension, he was not too covered in armour, so it would not take him very long to get his penis out of his pants. He would not have to remove any articles of clothing. 

The only problem would be the harp. It would bring attention to him if he were to dematerialize it, and he knew he couldn’t simply just place it down on the grass - that might be even weirder for a servant to do. So, he would need to do everything single handed.

Tristan shot another glance at his distracted master, who was still distracted, before turning to the side. His eyes open slightly, he adjusted the bow in his hand and made sure once again that his cape covered his actions before he started working on getting his dick out of his pants. 

His fingers dipped in between the armour around his hips and slid into the fabric of his waistband. Cool air hit his stomach and he bit down on his lip harder, relishing the feeling.

“Sir Tristan?”

His eyes opened wide and his hand shot out. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. Anything to appear normal.

“Is everything alright, Sir Tristan?” Jeanne asked and cocked her head to the side. Tristan turned to face her and once again waved his hand.

“I’m good! Just a little bored, you see,” Tristan explained.

Jeanne let out a sigh of relief. “Good to hear. It appeared as if you were doubled over, so I was worried that perhaps Gawain’s cooking had made you sick.” 

Tristan laughed, “There is no way that I’m tasting any more of Gawain’s potatoes.” He patted his stomach (which did not help, as his bladder screamed at him in response) and gave her the strongest smile he could muster given the circumstances. “I’m fine, don’t worry! But please, focus on the battle!”

Jeanne nodded and slowly turned back on her heel. Tristan took this time to also glance up at the boss - a quarter of a million health left to go. By this point, Tamamo no Mae was looking worse for wear, and Tristan wondered if Medea Lily would be switching in, soon.

Soon. Just a little bit more. 

His mind wandered to what he would do when he got back to his room. He felt sweaty enough, perhaps he would take a shower and pee in there, letting it hit the walls of the shower and mix with the shower water before disappearing down the drain. Or maybe he would let himself do the thing he only did when he was extremely drunk - piss in his sink. There was a weird perverseness to relieving himself there, dirtying what was supposed to be clean. He smiled at the thought.

Tristan shut his eyes tight again. But, he would only be allowed to do that if he survived through this battle! So he tightened his grip on his bow and dug his heels into the dirt.

He tried to focus on the battle, listening to his fellow servants fighting for their lives. In comparison, his battle was nothing. However, the thought of him accidentally wetting himself and anyone noticing would surely lead to a far worse death. Heaven forbid that it would be Merlin to notice! Tristan was pretty open with his likes - even more in the company of like-minded Lancelot and alcohol - but the thought of Merlin thinking that he was into piss? The potential that would come from that almost made the need to pee disappear.

And then, Ritsuka, the very nice and sweet Ritsuka, did the worst thing for him.

“It’s still so nice of Jeanne to give us water bottles,” they commented before downing their own bottle. Tristan could only watch in horror as drips of water dribbled down their cheek before dripping onto the ground. 

Tristan’s eyes settled on the ground where the water had dripped, and bit down hard once again on his lip. 

Sad.

He was now at a breaking point. He would not be able to survive the rest of the battle without relieving himself.

He needed to go as soon as possible.

But he wouldn't be able to move too much. Jeanne or Ritsuka would notice. He could still use his cape to help, but turning was a no-go. He racked his brain for a possible answer. As he searched, his eyes settled at his feet.

There we go.

He bent down and picked up his old water bottle. It wasn’t weird for him to pick up his own litter, right? And if anyone asked he could just simply say that since the battle was (hopefully) reaching its end he was just getting ready. This would work.

It was a little small, but Tristan wasn’t expecting to let everything out. Just enough to relieve some of the pressure and that would be enough. Then after the battle, he could either find a place to hide it in his cape, or while people were searching for any drops from the boss, he could quickly dump it. He would definitely need to throw out the water bottle himself, just in case it still smelled, but that wouldn’t be too weird, right?

The only problem was now he would have to a) get his penis out of his pants while b) holding onto the water bottle with one hand so he could still hold onto his bow. Oh how he wished he was like Avicebron or Ganesha so he would have multiple arms!

How sad!

He slowed down his breaths and kept his thumb and pointer finger holding the lip of the water bottle while his other fingers worked on pulling his waistband just low enough for him to slide his penis out of his pants. His cape was covering his master’s view of him, and he shot glances up at the servants in front of him every so often to make sure no one was turning around.

Tristan nimbly pulled out his dick’s head and positioned it into his bottle, making sure not to put it too deep in. It would be horrible if his penis got stuck inside the bottle! The cold air was tantalizing, as if his body was screaming at him to finally let it go. Making sure no one was looking at him, he let out a few dribbles to make sure the angle worked.

Gold sprinkles arced and fell into the bottle. He let out a small sigh, watching as it crested and filled it up. Oh, how he wished he could close his eyes - the feeling was amazing! He fought the urge and instead made sure that once again people were not looking at the gross act he was currently undertaking.

Unfortunately, by looking at his surroundings, he didn’t notice how much he had filled up the bottle.

The sudden weight in his hand was too much for the grip he had on its lip, and coupled with the sweat on his fingers, it started to slip. His eyes widened in shock, trying to scramble to fix it. But his attempts to fix things only made it worse, as the bottle fell from his hands and onto the ground.

The contents flew up and sprinkled onto his shins. Wet blotches stuck to his legs uncomfortably as they spread out and decorated from his thighs. Piss continued to leak out from his dick that peeked out of the lip of his pants in dribbles, like it was crying.

Sad.

“Oh no! Guess you’ll need to ask for another water bottle!” Ritsuka commented, pointing at it on the ground. 

“Oh? What is it?” Jeanne asked, and Tristan quickly shoved his penis back inside his pants and covered his stained legs as much as he could with his cape before she could fully turn around.

Her eyes landed on the water bottle that now sat on the field again. All of the contents had spilled out into the ground and Tristan stared at it with her. It certainly looked depressing now. It was his final attempt at holding his piss in, and now there it was, sitting on the ground, useless.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to bend over once more, his bladder would protest too much. If he squatted then he would probably just start peeing on reflex. His body had tasted release, and now it wanted to finish.

“Oh don’t worry! I have another one. Here,” Jeanne said, grabbing a water bottle from inside of her cape and handing it to him. She gave him another wave before returning her attention back to the ghost, who simply needed a couple more hits before death.

He looked at the new water bottle in his hand. How its contents sloshed around when he moved it in his grasp. How it crumpled when he gripped it, the harsh crackle. He swallowed hard and bit down on his lip.

He looked at the ghost, so close to death. 

Just like him, it would not survive this battle.

No, he would not be able to pee in his room like he had been dreaming of. He would have to do it now, in the open, peeing like an animal while his fellow servants fought for their lives.

Once more he covered himself up with his cape. His eyes settled on the piss stains on his legs. Well, time to add more.

He let himself go.

Tristan closed his eyes so he could focus on the feeling, throwing his head back. The heat spread down as the piss ran down his left thigh in multiple channels. His boxers became more tight as they dampened with his own urine, the waistband sticking to his stomach. It gushed out with a much stronger force, a hose to extinguish his own fiery need to relieve himself. The fire in his groin was now being drowned in a golden shower.

He let out a shaky breath as he opened his eyes again to study the damage he was currently doing to himself. His left leg was now much darker than his right, and it tricked and pooled into his boots. That was the problem with his second ascension - the piss would continue to pool there without a possible escape. Thankfully for him, his socks were doing a good job at sopping it up. His foot was wet, and he wiggled his toes in his shoe and the urine splashed back at him.

He felt gross. He cautiously lifted the cape a little to see more. He could carefully track the path the piss had gone through his pants. It was almost like a braid, the way it split and then rejoined. The path did not matter, all that did was that it exited his system.

Tristan was tempted to lean down and smell it. He couldn’t from this distance, but he was sure that once it settled into the fabric of his pants, they would stink. He would need to wash them delicately to make sure a) no one noticed and b) that the smell would disappear.

He sighed as he let out the final drips into his boxers. There, he was finally relieved. His bladder had been fully spent. He readjusted his cape and patted his left thigh through his cape, feeling some of the wetness seep through. He made sure not to keep it there for too long. 

“Congrats! You guys did it! I know you could!” Ritsuka’s voice cut through his thoughts and he saw the ghost disappear into dust and a couple of chests. Everyone gathered to its remnants and picked up the loot. Tristan made sure to keep a reasonable distance. 

Only a couple of bond points for all that? Sad.

They were brought back to Chaldea soon after, and since that ordeal had taken over a hundred turns and most of their afternoon, Ritsuka left everyone to their own devices. It could have not been sooner for Tristan, who almost ran back to his room.

He made sure to lock the door once he got in, pressing his back flush against the door and letting out a few, raspy breaths. He shrugged off his cape and his armour, letting it fall to the floor and finally giving him a perfect view of the aftermath of him peeing himself.

His black pants were now a shade darker, and they stuck to his legs. They grabbed at his skin when he moved, taught and tight and refusing to take on a more fluid shape like cloth. While his right side had a couple of lines, his left was much worse, almost fully stained. It flowed from his front, covering his thigh fully, around to his ass. 

Delicately, he pulled his pants off and held them up in front of him. There he could better see his work, like an artist admiring the paint on an easel. His curiosity got the better of him and he leaned in, giving a short sniff. The stink of ammonia filled his nostrils and he wondered how the others couldn’t have smelled it on him. 

He threw them down on the floor with his cape and after removing his shirt, pulled off his boxers. They had been a light grey, but were now much darker, with the darkest pool right at the crotch. Like a bull’s eye. Tristan sat down on the floor of his room, his back against the door, and held his boxers in his hands. 

They were deliciously damp, reeked of his own piss, and were mostly all covered. He wondered if he were to twist them if any gold droplets would leak out.

He hadn’t noticed, but a new need had developed in his groin. He wasn’t unfamiliar with masturbation - in Chaldea, surrounded by so many pretty men and women, it was bound to happen - but he did not expect this reaction from his own piss-stained underwear.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and then, delicately, wrapped his stained boxers around his shaft. The dampness against his dick felt delightful, and he quickly began work pumping himself. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, imagining possible future scenarios in his mind. Perhaps he could try again with the water bottle in the future? What would it be like as a lubricant? His mind drifted to a partner perhaps releasing themselves on him.

His imagination alight, he ejaculated into his underwear. Well, they were soiled already.

Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes and studied the clothes strewn around him. He ran his fingers down his sticky thighs. 

Perhaps stall comps were not the worst.

**Author's Note:**

> hello! hey it's been a while since i've written watersports.  
this mainly came from all of the challenge quests and then i thought huh maybe someone needs to pee but they're in a stall comp? i chose tristan cause he's a staple in my stall comps. the rest, besides medea lily who is my daughter so i keep her on all the time, are just staples in stall comps.  
i was thinking of merlin actually finding out and chiding him but i don't. know how to write merlin. i don't even know if i did tristan well enough tbh, but welp, sad.  
i got another one in the works, with a servant/gudao, so look out for that one! thanks for reading!!


End file.
